Hunt for the Osiris Sphere
by AverageJack
Summary: Captain Robert Mitchell finds himself in charge of Task Force 7 of the Black Diamonds. His mission is simple, his focus complete. But life has a tendency to throw curve balls.
1. Chapter 1

Note from author: Reading A Ghost Story will give you some background on this story, but it is not critical.

CHAPTER 1

In triangle formation the three drop-ships plunged towards the brown planet, igniting in a ball of fire with a sonic boom, leaving a trail of fire as they entered the atmosphere. Inside the men and equipment shook violently, their harnesses keeping them strapped in place. It was a standard drop that the occupants had endured countess times.

"Ok gentlemen listen up" Mitchell heard Colonel Burke's voice through his earpiece.

"This is not the last time you'll find yourself pulled from a location to receive your orders in transit. In fact that's the way we do business…you're on your way to mining station Persephony in the Osiris system." A star map appeared on the display of his Goliath zooming in on the planet.

"It has stood abandoned for the last six months after a zerg attack killed all human life on the station" Burke continued. "At that stage the station was only eight months old and had not produced the mineral yields that was hoped for. After the attack it was decided not to retake the planet." A short static buzz interrupted Burke's message.

"However 18 hours ago a unique reading was picked up on the planet. It was an electromagnetic pulse associated with a very rare material. This material possesses certain…well lets say unique qualities. Since it only emits this pulse roughly once a decade, the original miners and scientists were unaware of its existence. The sample is estimated to be the size of a golf ball and the scientists have come to call it the Osiris sphere. Your primary mission is to retrieve this object.

The devices that were handed to you before takeoff are scanners that will track this material, but preliminary readings shows it to be in one of the mine tunnels." Mitchell looked at the hand held scanner.

Your secondary objective is to recover the facility's log. A complete power failure prohibited us to do that remotely. You will find a port to download the file in the facility's command centre.

You'll be dropped directly outside the mining facility. Upon the completion of your mission you will signal the drop ships that will be waiting somewhere out of harm's way and return you to your corvette that is orbiting the planet. I am downloading locality maps of the mining facility and the planet now. You'll also find supplementary information on the planet and the facility in the transmission." Mitchell relaxed a little – the mission sounded simple enough.

His screen displayed a progress bar indicating a download sequence that had commenced.

"One last thing" Burke said again, "the small military base that protected the facility was overrun by the zerg, but it is believed that the command centre was infested. Now even though we are getting no readings of life on the planet, it is possible that infested terrans are wandering the plains, so keep your eyes open."

Great, Mitchell thought to himself. He hated killing the mindless soldiers that reminded him of zombies from b-grade movies.

"Good luck gentlemen, and be careful", Burke said as he signed off.

"ETA – five minutes", the pilot said over the radio.

Mitchell scanned the information on his screen. It was difficult not to feel over confident. The last six months had been non-stop training, and it left Mitchell in charge of a finely honed weapon called Task Force 7 – the latest unit to be added to the Black Diamonds.

A typical task force would consist of six marines, three fire bats, two Vultures, six Goliaths and one Ghost specialist. A small force by anyone's standards. But if the regular army preformed the function of a broadsword, Task Force 7 was a scalpel.

Black Diamond stand-by units that could be assigned for backup included twelve Wraiths, twelve Siege tanks, six battle cruisers and two science facilities. This mission was however classified 'soft' and no backup was assigned.

Before joining the Black Diamonds, Mitchell was under the impression that he knew everything there was to know about driving his clunker and commanding his men. He had thought that the countless battles he had been in, and scores of kills he tallied on the side of his unit, had taught him all he needed to know.

That illusion was shattered on the first day of advanced combat training. And that was only the first in a number of classes that propelled his abilities to new levels.

For days on end the new recruits, that consisted of men formerly from the 2nd battalion of the 121st mechanised division that had survived a somewhat unusual ordeal on Terra-Gamma, would do training manoeuvres interspersed with lectures and tests.

The lecturers were flown in from all regions of the occupied universe and consisted of experts from all disciplines in the armed forces - from ghost instructors to generals to scientists.

Lecture materials covered every conceivable subject including strategic thinking, rapid deployment, combat armour mechanics, Goliath mechanics, escape and evasion, survival techniques, interrogation, command and control strategies, field medicine, weapon systems and a myriad more. Upon completing a topic there would be field exercises applying the relevant material.

"Download complete", the female voice of his on-board computer announced.

Planet- Vesta Prime

Solar cycle – 96 hours

Climate – Arid, no surface water

- Temperature: 30 to 40 degrees Celsius

- Wind speed: 12 to 13.5 knots constant

Vegetation: None

"A real paradise", Mitchell murmured to himself. They would be landing three hours into the night cycle, which lasted 48 hours. There were perpetual sand storms, and no plant life or water.

"All crew, stand by for drop-off" the pilot said again.

What struck Mitchell as strange was that this drop ship pilot was male.

In the cockpit, captain Jason "Cool Hand" Briggs looked at the digital terrain image on his display, expertly guiding his ship through the strong cross winds.

Having flown a Wraith for seven years, a rare opportunity came up to join the Black Diamonds two years earlier - only the position was for a drop ship pilot. Briggs grabbed the opportunity with both hands and had never regretted it.

Since then he made it his personal mission to get members of his old squadron recruited. By now 90 percent of the Black Diamond drop ship pilots were ex-fighter pilots and male. The high level of professionalism combined with the exciting missions and extra pay was too attractive to ignore.

The mining facility appeared as a red cube on his map. Leading his formation in a semi-circle over the facility's entrance, he preformed an electronic scan of the terrain below for any threats invisible to the naked eye. All clear.

As the ships dropped lower, the cargo door lowered open. A hot gush of dust blew into the cargo area.

The ship touched down and the occupants hastily evacuated. Within ten seconds all the ships were empty and lifted off, disappearing into the hot night. Faint light from the three moons over Vesta-Prime managed to penetrate the sand storm.

With the wind blowing thick sand clouds over the terrain, Mitchell was eager to get into the facility. In front of them, there was a structure that looked like a gigantic hanger, with a cylindrical construction extending out the back.

Mitchell knew the bulk of the facility was below ground, and this hangar was only for arriving or departing craft.

"Perimeter secure" Mitchell heard Sergeant Ventura's voice over his earpiece.

"Lieutenant Spengler, check out the structure and report" Mitchell said to his ghost specialist.

It was weird for Mitchell to be in charge of a ghost specialist, but he also enjoyed the flexibility and versatility it lent to Task Force 7.

Second Lieutenant Spengler was the only combatant in the group that did not have extensive combat experience. Ghost specialists seemed in short supply, and not wanting their newest detachment to go without Ghosts abilities, the Black Diamonds did the next best thing; they recruited top of the class straight-out-of-special-forces-school Spengler.

In spite of his combat record, or lack thereof, Mitchell was surprised at how cool and together the twenty-five year old specialist acted.

Spengler ran toward the hanger door, disappearing as he activated his stealth suit. Soon the only thing visible was his foot-plods in the sand.

Spengler approached the gigantic sliding doors, now completely cloaked. He was prepared to use a small explosive to knock a hole in the doors, but a number of openings were gashed in the metal. It was an obvious sign of the zerg attack that had killed the occupants.

Sliding through one of the openings, he found himself in complete darkness. With his night vision activated, the warehouse materialised in front of him. The hanger was basically a large empty box with walkways halfway up against the side-walls where technicians and mechanics could gain access to a ship from the top. In the back a wide corridor lead away from the entrance with a slight slope downwards toward the lift network some hundred yards away. The facility seemed empty, and a quick infrared scan confirmed that.

From the locality plan on his computer, he had identified an emergency generator room through a door in the back left corner of the hangar. Quickly he made his way over and found the door open. An overwhelming odour filled his nose as he entered and he soon saw the remains of the victim that had been torn apart by the zerg.

Stepping over the corpse, Spengler located the switchbox, and tried the 'POWER ON' button.

A soft wine started up, growing louder until a single light came on casting long dark shadows. The power supply was an auxiliary system, and powered only the emergency components. The lights that came on were few and far apart, and the dim light created an even more ominous atmosphere.

Outside Mitchell saw the lights come on. That's a bonus, he thought to himself.

Inside Spengler completed a quick sweep finding the ground floor clear.

"All clear boss" he reported to Mitchell, "you can come in."

Task Force 7 moved out. Mitchell was still very much impressed with his new custom made Goliath. Numerous advanced electronic and weapons systems were fitted to it. Most of the systems were reserved for black-ops teams. The simple reason standard ground forces did not have these marvels of modern technology was simply the price tag attached to it.

Rumours were that the next step would be to give the giant mechanical warriors airborne capabilities, but Mitchell doubted that.

Inside the hanger, it was obvious that the zerg had crashed the party. In the poor light the blood stains on the walls on floors were clear. One could even tell that some of the humans had been dragged out the doors by the dried blood smears on the floor. The marks sent shivers up Mitchell's spine.

"Arc Angel" Mitchell called to the corvette as he made his situation report or sit-rep. "This is Task Force 7...we have entered mining station Persephony. All is clear and we are now proceeding with a sweep for primary and secondary objectives."

"Task Force 7 this is Arc Angel, we read you loud and clear. Good luck down there" the female voice replied.

"Demon Leader, this is base – be advised a Black Diamond task force has just reached the facility. Scans show one corvette in orbit around Vesta-Prime. Approach with caution. Base out."

Commandant Seth Vritra had just entered the Osiris system and was speeding his small stealth ship, the Intruder, towards Vesta-Prime. He was considering the transmission he had just received.

The Black Diamonds were a force to be reckoned with. This was not going to be easy. Then thinking of what the Osiris Sphere could fetch on the black market, a smile played across his lips. The Black Diamonds would just have to make way, he thought to himself, 'cause the Demons were moving in, and nothing would stop them.


	2. Chapter 2

The dim lights combined with the rank stench of stagnant air gave the mining facility an ominous feel. Outside the wind was howling, and seeing the blood stains and long dark shadows that seemed to hide unspeakable evil, made the hairs on Mitchell's neck stand on end. He was not a person to be easily effected by his surroundings, but somehow it seemed as if a dark presence was watching them.

"Ok, listen up" he addressed his men. "We wanna be out of here double quick, so here's what we're gonna do; Sergeant Ventura is going to take his marines and find the facility's log. Lieutenant Spengler, you go with them. The map shows the control centre on sub-level three. You plug in, run the extraction sequence and return here. Corporal Saunders," Mitchell said to the highest ranking farebat, "you and your men will accompany me, corporal Sykes and Merlin to go down and get the sphere. We're going down to sublevel eight and then five hundred meters down the tunnel. We should be back in forty-five minutes. PFC Hansen, you and the rest of the men will stay here and keep an eye out…. Any questions" Mitchell asked looking at the men. There were none.

"Ok, let's head out" he said leading the way.

There were two lifts leading down into the nether regions of the mine - one for personnel and the other for mining equipment. Sergeant Ventura and his troop of six entered the personnel lift and the doors closed behind them.

The equipment lift could easily fit the three Goliaths and three firebats – having room to spare. The heavy 'Juggernaut' drilling vessels and specialized SCV's that usually filled the lift required lots of space. As the door closed behind Mitchell, an ominous chill confronted him once more. The lift sank down into the silent depths of Vesta-Prime.

The approach had been tricky, but having piloted numerous covert operations himself, Commandant Vritra was able to expertly avoid detection by the Terran corvette. Having approached Vesta-Prime from the opposite side the corvette was orbiting, the Intruder slipped into the planet's atmosphere undetected. Vritra then proceeded to fly nap-of-the-earth, using the enormous canyon called Thor's Passage to close in on Persephony. In record time, the Intruder touched down a mere five kilometres from the entrance hanger.

The lift opened, and Sergeant Ventura led the way towards the command centre. As in the surface hanger, the lighting was bad and bloodstains were everywhere. Ventura was not taking any chances. His squad proceeded with a leapfrog manoeuvre; three marines remaining stationary providing cover, while the remaining three proceeded ahead some fifteen paces. The front group would hold position and the rear group would proceed past them.

Spengler was bringing up the rear.

Open doors with abandoned rooms lined the hallway. What struck both Ventura and Spengler as strange was that there were no dead bodies. Signs of violence were everywhere – the inhabitants had obviously been killed…but no bodies.

"Marines hold" Spengler said calmly over his mike. Immediately the three marines that were proceeding, hunkered down.

"What's up Lieutenant, "Ventura asked?

"Something's wrong" Spengler said not sounding sure.

"I detect…something", he continued.

They waited. Silence covered them like a blanket.

"Zander" Ventura whispered to his soldier, "engage the motion detector.

Zander flipped a small hand-held device open. It came on automatically as it was opened. In the centre of the small screen there was a dot indicating the marine's position. From it a green circle expanded rapidly twice every second, indicating the pulses it emitted. It created an image of the surrounding walls in black. Zander looked at it intensely, waiting to see if any red patches, indicating movement, came up.

Nothing.

As Ventura was about to command his men to move out, a red pattern appeared in the right corner of the screen.

"Seven-one, Seven-three, report your positions" Ventura spoke over his mike.

"Seven-one, on board the lift, proceeding down" Mitchell reported.

"Seven-three, topside in the hangar" Hansen reported from upstairs.

"Then who the hell is that?" Ventura asked softly.

"I'll check it out," Spengler said activating his stealth suit again. As he passed the marines he melted away into nothingness, leaving only a slightly distorted light pattern around him.

"I'd love to have one of those" Zander whispered, his admiration for the stealth suit obvious.

"Yeah", Ventura answered smirking. "And you'll probably use it to get into girl's locker rooms."

"What's happening up there Seven-Two" Mitchell asked.

"We picked up some movement" Ventura replied. "Spengler's checking it out now."

"Keep me posted" Mitchell said signing off.

Again it was quiet. On the motion scanner the area Spengler had moved to, went cold – no movement.

"What the…" Zander started as the lower left corner of the screen lit up.

"Something's freaky here sarge" Zander said.

"Ok, boys, look alive – something's not right" Ventura agreed.

"Spengler, what do you see" he asked the specialist.

"So far all's clear…wait…" Spengler went quiet. Then a shot rang out. Another…and another.

"Sarge; movement approaching fast" Zander said as the red patch on the screen was making its way over to the marines. Within seconds it would come around the corner.

The first infested Terran appeared; its glazy white eyes as disturbing and unreal as ever. Parts of its flesh had started to rot away. It spotted the marines and growled as it started to make its way over.

It was ten yards away. Six Impalers flared sending a hailstorm of bullets down the passage cutting the zombie-like creature to shreds. A second and third one appeared and with the guns blazing it shared the fate of the first one.

"Poor bastards" Zander said softly.

"Seven-One, Seven-Three, be on the lookout – we have I.T.s in the facility; I repeat, we have I.T.s on the loose" Ventura said warning the others.

"Spengler, you ok" he asked, waiting for a response from the Ghost.

"All clear" Spengler said. "I see the control room – you can proceed to my position."

One by one the floors came past as Mitchell and his men descended lower.

"Sub-level eight" the voice of the lift control unit announced as the lift stopped with a shudder. The doors opened. Unlike the other levels that were used for labs, sleeping quarters or maintenance facilities, sub-level eight was only a mining tunnel.

Approximately ten meters wide by ten meters high, the tunnel was cut through solid rock, with a dim line of ceiling lights disappearing into the distance.

The firebats scattered from the lift followed by the titanic Goliaths. It was not standard protocol to send units of that size for an operation in restricted surroundings, but having the mine tunnels as large as they were, and knowing that a bunch of I.T.s might be hiding out in the dark, made having the extra fire power convenient.

"Corporal Saunders" Mitchell said, "You stay with the lift."

Seven-One started down the tunnel – ever watching their scanners, as the sphere signal got closer.

Seven-Three was on alert in the entrance hanger. After having received confirmation that zombies – as the soldiers called them – were walking around, everyone seemed a bit more awake.

"Leather! Thomas!" PFC Hansen called the two Vulture drivers over his mike.

"Deploy some Spider mines around the perimeter – inside and out", he barked not wanting any unexpected visitors.

"Roger that" private Leather confirmed. "Thomas, you do outside; I'll cover the lift area" he said firing up his Vulture.

The powerful engine of the Vulture roared as Leather started it up. Within seconds the two units sped off – one down the hanger to the lifts, the other to the opening in the hangar doors.

Leather punched his control pad releasing one spider mine in front of each lift door. He was sure to deploy them far enough not to damage the lift shaft in the event of an explosion. The mines would only engage enemy units, and so if Seven-One or Seven-Two returned they would be safe.

Thomas left through the opening. He had proceeded only a few meters before a blinding explosion ripped his Vulture apart. His death was instantaneous.

Mitchell and his men were approaching the location of the sphere. He was concerned with his expensive new toy – there seemed to be something wrong with the Goliaths electronics system. He had only picked it up a minute ago, but his main display seemed to blink on and off every now and again.

"What the…"he said to himself as it happened again, a frown forming on his forehead.

"It should be behind one of these walls," one of the firebats said, drawing Mitchell's attention back.

Mitchell flipped through the options of his Goliath's utilities menu. The unit was equipped with tools for minor field repairs. The tool kit called a 'service pack' was fitted below the weapons components on the right arm. Punching his keypad a mechanical drill flipped out sporting a thirty centimetre drill-bit.

"This thing is like a damned Swiss army knife", Mitchell murmured as he closed in on the wall, the spotlights of the Goliaths illuminating the dark surface. His scanner was showing the sphere to be only about ten centimetres into the rock. His aim was to drill holes around its location, hopefully breaking it loose without damaging it.

"Seven-One, Seven-Two; we're under attack. Repeat; we're under attack" Mitchell heard the radio crackle.

Mitchell was unsure why Hansen sounded so stressed. The two Vultures and three Goliaths that made up unit Seven-Three were well equipped to deal with a large number of infested terrans. But before he could voice his question, Hansen explained.

"Small force of well-armed men... we're under heavy fire...Thomas is down..." Hansen said with the sound of gunfire in the background.

Mitchell punched his keypad to switch his display to Hansen's forward camera. Immediately he saw what Hansen was firing at.

It was obvious that Seven-One was up against professionals. It was evident that the attackers had military grade armour and equipment and carried themselves in a manner of seasoned veterans.

"Seven-Two, what's your status" Mitchell asked Ventura, knowing the conflict would be over soon, and that Seven-One would not make it back in time to be of assistance.

"Seven-Two here. We got it – we're moving up," Ventura answered.

Mitchell just hoped they would make it to the conflict in time to assist Hansen.

"Merlin, capture an image that we can transmit for identification while I get this rock out of the wall" Mitchell said as he returned his drill to the wall. He wanted to get the sphere and get to the top as soon as possible. At the same time they needed to get a positive identification on their attackers.

Merlin flipped through the four cameras of the units fighting up above. It took him a couple of seconds, but then a got a nice clean shot of one of the men. Immediately he transmitted it to the corvette, instructing them to identify the attackers.

Mitchell was pissed that they did not get any warning. The corvette was supposed to be watching their backs. On top of this, the three drop-ships were soft targets, and he only hoped they had not been taken out by these guys – otherwise Task Force seven was stuck on Vesta-Prime.

Sergeant Ventura and his men had completed their download just before the call came through. Now they were running down the hallways back to the lift to assist the men upstairs.

Three zombies appeared in front of them.

"Shit" Ventura swore. "We don't have time for this!"

The men opened fire. Infested terrans kept appearing. One here, one there; just enough to keep Seven-Two from moving.

Commandant Vritra had Seven-Three exactly where he wanted them – they were out-numbered, out gunned and surrounded. It was just a matter of time before they fell. He was however surprised at the skill they displayed. Their fire was controlled and accurate and even though they were facing overwhelming odds, they stayed calm and effective.

Not the matter, Vritra thought to himself. The rest of their unit was stuck in the bowels of the mining facility, and at the speed they were going, Seven-One would be long gone before any help would arrive.

Carried by three men the heavy machinegun came in through the door. Within seconds it was set up on its waist high tripod and one of the soldiers assumed firing position.

Oh they're gonna love this, Vritra thought to himself.

"Captain Mitchell - this is Arc Angel" Mitchell heard in his ear.

"I've got some bad news for you" the female voice said easily.

"We've identified the group as a company called Proactive Solutions. They used to be private military contractors, but found the free market system too lucrative. For the past two years they have officially been classified as a terrorist organization after pulling an armed assault on the McMillan Weapon Systems Corporation."

Well it certainly wasn't good news so far, Mitchell thought to himself.

"They are well trained and very well armed and will do anything to make a buck. Their mission commander is Commandant Seth Vritra. Now if that name sounds familiar, it's because of his disappearance from the core five years ago after selling out his unit to a rebel group, resulting in their deaths."

"They call their fighting squads demon packs" she continued, "and it consists of twelve men. Two men in the squad specialize in a specific field like explosives for example. This means the team can split to form two six man teams, or function as one twelve man team with redundancy if anybody gets killed."

"Tell me about their weapons" Mitchell interrupted.

"The stuff they stole from the McMillan Corporation is state of the art and in some cases still experimental. Ninety percent of the hardware they stole was sold, making them a boatload of money, but the other ten percent – the best stuff – they kept for themselves. I'm downloading some specifications for you now," the officer on the corvette said as a download sequence commenced on Mitchell's screen.

Mitchell scrolled through the list of weapons on his display.

"Dragon's Breath X-2" he read - the heavy machine gun catching his eye.

Class – Pulse Rifle

Accurate Range – 5000 meters

Calibre – 25mm Plasma Rounds

Muzzle Velocity – 5433m/s

Cyclic Rate of Fire – 635 rounds a minute

Length – 1,756mm

Barrel Length – 1,535mm

Weight – 40kg

Original Designation – Attack Aircraft

Current Designation – Heavy Infantry

Mitchell was starting to realise how much trouble Seven-Three really was in.

The Dragon's Breath opened fire on Seven-Three. It sounded like a chainsaw running at high speed, and the 25mm plasma rounds cut through concrete and steel like a hot knife through butter. Private First Class Hansen was starting to panic.

"Ventura – when are you getting up there," Mitchell asked while working his drill.

"We're doing our best" Ventura said between bursts of machine gun fire.

"Shit" Mitchell swore to himself. They're getting cut to pieces up there, he thought.

The fifth hole he was drilling cracked, splitting the rock face. Pieces of rock fell away revealing a dim orange glow. It was the sphere. Mitchell punched his cockpit to open. Jumping out, he cleared the rubble away. Reaching in, he drew the sphere from its resting place. It was warm to the touch.

As Mitchell drew the sphere from the rock, the spotlights of the Goliaths died.

"What the hell" Psycho swore.

"All systems are down" Merlin said.

Even the firebat's armour suits were unresponsive. It took Mitchell the better half of ten seconds to realise that the sphere had somehow rendered their equipment useless.


	3. Chapter 3

Mitchell had to think fast – his men were dying. Psycho and Merlin pressed the emergency release nubs in their cockpits to free the domes that closed their cockpits.

"Merlin" Mitchell said still holding the sphere, "see if you can restart your system. Engage the auxiliary power, use the backup battery, do whatever you can just get us going again. Psycho, you take this damned thing," Mitchell continued holding up the orange glowing sphere, "and go down the tunnel and around a bend to see if the effect it had can be reversed. And watch out for IT's."

Psycho took the sphere and started running down the tunnel, while Merlin started working on his Goliath.

Mitchell drew his modified Gauss pistol – one of the new additions to his armament. This particular piece of equipment looked innocent enough – similar to a regular firearm albeit a bit more bulky, and with a bit more kick than the standard military issued sidearm.

"I'm gonna have a chat with Saunders" Mitchell said cocking his pistol. "You all stay here and work on getting the Goliaths and armour working again."

With that he ran down the tunnel towards the lift shaft.

* * *

Ventura was relieved that the hallways were finally cleared. A number of torn corpses and the smoking barrels of Impalers were the only signs of the hustle that had kept them occupied for over five minutes.

"To the lift" he said urgently, wanting to help the men upstairs.

Seven-Two headed down the corridor towards the lift shaft, hoping it was not too late.

Reaching the lift shaft, Ventura punched the arrow pointing upwards and cursed with frustration at having to wait.

"Seven-Three, this is Seven-Two do you copy" he asked and waited.

"Seven-three, this is Seven-Two do you copy" he repeated himself.

"They're gone," a voice said over the radio. It was Saunders, the firebat that had accompanied Mitchell to the mining shaft.

"Sergeant Ventura, I have Captain Mitchell here with me" Saunders continued. "He wants you to hold your position."

Ventura was perplexed. Firstly, why did Mitchell not speak to him personally; and secondly, why do they have to hold their position.

Before being able to ask, Saunders explained.

"Seven-Three have been destroyed. I know this because Leather made a last transmission before he was taken out. You probably did not hear it because you were busy killing zombies", Saunders concluded.

"Captain Mitchell can't speak to you because all his electronic equipment has been rendered useless by the sphere. They are trying to get it going again, but for the time being his instructions to you are to delay the Demons from coming down the shaft in whatever way you can."

Ventura contemplated his instruction. There were two shaft and the Demons could use either one. The easiest way to keep them from using one would be to use demolitions. However that would also prohibit the remainder of Seven-One to head back up.

"Sergeant Ventura" Saunders spoke again. "Captain Mitchell wants you to rig the shaft with explosives and take out the Demons if they use the shaft" Saunders said.

"But how do we get out again" Ventura asked.

There was a moment of silence as Saunders conferred with Mitchell.

"Just do it" Saunders said. "That is a direct order," he concluded removing any further hesitation from Ventura's mind. Within seconds Ventura's men were rigging the lift shafts with high explosives.

"Whatever you do", Saunders finished, "your main objective now is to keep the Demons from reaching Seven-One until they can regroup, or get the sphere to safety...and sergeant, Captain Mitchell says you must be careful, these guys have dangerous toys."

Ventura didn't know how Seven-One could get the sphere to safety with the lift-shafts down, but he also knew better than to doubt Mitchell.

* * *

In the mining tunnel Mitchell was giving instructions to Saunders. Mitchell had confidence that his instructions would be carried out to the full. The firebat in front of him had gravel in his voice and grit in his soul – a warrior to the core.

His instructions were simple: if the Demons came down the shaft, he was to keep them busy as long as he could, and if possible, stop them completely.

Saunders did not cringe at his mission impossible, to the contrary, he agreed with a grin, firing up his smoke of choice – a thick Cuban cigar.

"They'll have a firestorm waiting for them," he said easily in his gruff voice, the smile still playing on his lips.

"And report to Arc Angel – tell them we need some reinforcements and a shielded container for the sphere," Mitchell yelled over his shoulder as he started making his way back to the rest of Seven-One.

"No use cap" Merlin said as Mitchell came running down the tunnel. "All equipment with electronic chips or components still down."

Mitchell also noticed that Psycho had returned – the effects of the sphere obviously permanent.

Ok, it was plan B then, Mitchell thought to himself. From the brief study he did on the facility's plans while still on the drop ship, he could remember that there was a ventilation shaft cutting across the tip of all mining tunnels that day-lighted on the surface. Since the facility had a level three security clearance, he doubted that the Demons knew about the ventilation shaft.

In theory one could make it up the ventilation shaft and blow the vent system to gain freedom – it was their only chance.

"Ok" Mitchell said. "Grab the kit from the clunkers and get ready to move out." We take the sphere topside and leave it with the drop ship pilots while they wait for a shielded container; then we come back for our guys."

The words were bitter in his mouth – knowing he was leaving men behind. At the same time he realised completing the mission meant exactly that. They would get the sphere to safety, and then it would be payback time.

Stripping their useless combat armour off, the firebats were left standing in their tan coloured overalls, looking much less threatening. Without their primary weapons, the firepower of Seven-One had dropped by a factor of ten. Fortunately the Goliaths of the Rapid Reaction Forces were rigged with equipment for unforeseen circumstances – just like the one they currently found themselves in.

Mitchell released the survival pack from his clunker. Opening it up, he handed the titanium-nylon body armour to one of the firebats, and the light machine gun with its spare clips to another. Merlin and Psycho kept their armour and light machine guns, but handed their gauss pistols over to the remaining firebats. That left three men with light machine guns and light body armour, and two men with no armour, but gauss pistols.

In the pack, below the armour and weaponry, there was another pouch with a med kit, some weather–proof flares and a thick roll of kern-mantle mountaineering rope.

How convenient, Mitchell thought to himself as he swung the rope across his torso.

As the group of five trotted down the tunnel away from the lift-shaft, they were unaware of what was happening on surface level.

* * *

Commandant Vritra lifted his combat helmet off his head and scanned the bullet-ridden hangar. As his men were securing the battlefield, he lit a cigarette and allowed his thoughts to drift. What were the Diamonds up to - trapped like rats in a barrel…what was his opponent thinking.

"Area secured sir. We've activated the Bio-Pulse – nobody up here anymore" his second in command reported. "What are your orders," the young soldier asked, still fired up from the battle and eager to kill.

"You commander Aeron, will take Demon-2, disarm those Spider mines and rappel down the lift shaft to sublevel seven – not eight. On eight you might find a surprise party waiting. Don't use the lift carriage – the shaft is probably already rigged with explosives. I'll take Demon-1 and come in the back door" Vritra said, his eyes narrowing as he took another drag from his cigarette. He knew his opponent would be clever, and escaping through the ventilation shaft was the smart thing to do.

"Once we have them in our pinchers, we squeeze the life out of them" Vritra smiled.

"And commander" Vritra concluded as Aeron walked away, "remember to take your Bio-Pulse along, and set it up immediately when you get down there – they have a Ghost lurking about..."

* * *

Sergeant Ventura checked his watch. His men had set up an ambush around both lift shafts, and the explosives were rigged to detonate if the lift cart moved up or down. They had been waiting for twenty minutes and still there was nothing. His philosophy had always been that the best defence is a good offense. His current situation did however not really allow for that. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Lieutenant Spengler" he called, "check what's going on topside."

"Rodger that" Spengler said and headed for the lift.

Due to his training as a specialist operator, Spengler outranked Ventura. But both men had a healthy understanding of the benefit of Ventura's tried and tested battlefield command experience, and so no questions were asked when Ventura gave Spengler instructions.

Spengler whipped four devices from his combat vest that represented hockey pucks with straps attached to them. He busied himself strapping two to his combat boots and two to his wrists. Ventura recognised the gizmos as Seta-grips, equipment commonly used by Special Forces groups. Apparently they worked on a similar principal as gecko-feet, gripping to almost any surface, and releasing again by the operator's controls.

Looking up the open lift shaft, Spengler activated his night vision and stealth suit. He reached out and attached one of his grips to the wall. Then he disappeared through the doorway.

Mitchell and his crew of four were making their way through the dark tunnel. The lights that lined the ceiling had ended, and so had the shotcrete fibre-reinforced tunnel lining. With two of the five men now carrying their ignited Orion flares, Seven-One was officially off the charted map.

Reaching the end of the tunnel Mitchell looked up. All he could see was a black hole where the rock ceiling should have been. A slight draught confirmed that it was indeed the ventilation tunnel. On the side of the vertical rock tunnel, metal brackets were bolted to the rock, holding a variety of cables in place. The brackets were roughly spaced at one meter centres. Using the cables and metal brackets, Seven-One would have to make their way to the surface. It was going to be a long and hard climb, but Mitchell realized their options were limited.

"Ok", Mitchell said, "here's how we're going to do this. I'm going up with one of you guys with a machine gun. We secure the floor above, and the other three follow – we repeat this procedure to the top." The men nodded.

"I want strict noise disciple" he added, realizing he did not have to remind the men.

Halfway up the shaft on his way to the top floor, Spengler realised the bad guys were inbound. Three ropes dropped past him, and above he could see men rigging themselves up, to lower down.

"Sergeant, we've got company" he whispered to Ventura over his mike. "Three Tango's (targets) preparing to rappel down equipment shaft now."

Ventura silently cursed under his breath. He had hoped that Spengler would make it to the top before the bad guys started coming down. Now they could not use the explosives. Checking the shafts, Ventura found three ropes down the one, and three down the other.

"Lights out", he indicated to his men. Using the hilts of their Impalers, two marines knocked the lights out. At Ventura's signal, another two stripped the explosives off the inside walls.

"Ok", Ventura whispered to his men. "We have three Demons coming down each shaft. There's no reason to believe they know we're here. They're probably heading down to sub-level eight. We wait for them to pass; then we hit them hard from above. I don't want one live touchdown. Spengler you hold tight."

Spengler looked up, and saw the three men lean back against the ropes attached to their harnesses. Then they hopped back, and started whizzing down the shaft. It took less than a second for the first three to pass Spengler.

In the adjacent tunnel, the three remaining Demons also dropped down the shaft. The game was on.

Below Ventura and his men surrounded both shaft openings in two small semi-circles, covered in darkness and ready to pounce.

The first three Demons whizzed past, followed by the second three. In an instant Ventura and his marines were leaning over the edge, their Impalers flaming.

Commander Aeron was focussing on controlling his decent speed when the Gauss spikes started raining from above, accompanied by the thunderous coughs of the Impalers . Looking up, he could see his magnetic-shield flashing as it deflected the rounds, like an umbrella shielding him from raindrops.

Ventura also saw the blue flashes above the Demons, that seemed to echo each shot fired. Realising that none of their targets were going down, Venture realised the men were protected by some type of shield – almost like the Protoss.

"Grenades" Ventura yelled to his men, knowing his only shot would be taking them out with explosives.

Looking from above, Spengler also saw how ineffective the fire from the marines had been. As Ventura and his men stopped firing to draw grenades, Spengler could tell they would not make it in time. The Demons were busy prying a door open on one of the floors below.

"Deflect this – assholes" Spengler said whipping out his combat knife. Slicing through the air in a wide arc, his titanium blade cut through the three ropes as if they weren't there.

"Heads up Saunders" Spengler warned his comrade below, as the three Demons dropped down the shaft.

Saunders had been monitoring the conversation, and with the rounds slamming into the ground in the shaft in front of him, he had the barrel of his flame-thrower pointed straight ahead.

Two Demons hit the ground hard, having fallen three stories. The fall was not enough to kill them, but lying on the ground dazed and confused gave Saunders all the time he needed.

"Welcome to Persyphony boys" he said exhaling smoke through his nose and mouth before jamming down his trigger.

A ball of flame consumed the shaft, roaring upwards like smoke through a chimney. Seven levels above, Spengler made haste to exit the tunnel, seeing the mass of fire closing in on him. At the same time Ventura and his marines dropped three grenades down each shaft.

The flames first reached the marines on sublevel two, billowing out through the door. The flame explosion knocked three of the marines to the floor. Two storeys above them, Spengler rolled over the edge of the ground floor shaft, seconds before the flames came pouring over the edge, lightly scorching the rear of his stealth suit.

On sub-level eight, Saunders released his trigger. The flames subsided, leaving two bodies charred beyond recognition. Then three grenades dropped around them. Saunders' eyes widened. The three grenades exploded as one; the explosion throwing him ten meters down the tunnel, crash landing on his back. Skidding another four meters across the floor, he came to a standstill.

Shaking his head, it took a couple of seconds for him to realise he was ok.

"Now that's what I call a fire fight" he said to himself.

"Spengler, Saunders, report", Ventura commanded the two soldiers.

"Nobody, up here" Spengler said. "The Goliaths and Vultures are destroyed..."

He did not have to say that the Demons had killed the men of Seven-Three – by now that was obvious.

"Yeah, I toasted two Tangos' down here right before you almost blew my shit away", Saunders said, seemingly haven taken the near death experience in stride.

"Only two?" Spengler asked. "That's impossible – I sent three your way."

"Well", Saunders replied, "then one of them got stuck on the way down."

Looking down the shaft Ventura could see flames flickering at the bottom. Nobody was left in the shaft.

"Ok", Ventura started. "So, we've got six Demons coming down the shaft – two now dead. That leaves four in the tunnels between us and Saunders."

"Captain Mitchell said we were facing a force of twelve", Saunders interrupted. "What happened to the other six?" he asked.

"Update us on Seven-One's plan" Ventura asked Saunders, trying to figure out what the Demons were up to.

"He said they're going to take the vent system up, drop the sphere off somewhere safe, and come back to kick ass", Saunders replied.

Considering what he had heard, Ventura tried to piece the puzzle together. He started wondering why the Demons would only send half their men after the sphere. Where did the rest go and why. Then it dawned on him; if the Demons knew about the vent system, they might have anticipated Mitchell's move.

"Spengler, track the rest of the Demons. They will be on their way to the vent system, and judging by the orientation of the complex, it should be parallel to the main tunnels – approximately five hundred meters from the entrance hangar. We'll try to hook up with Seven-One. Hopefully we can get to them where the vent system intersects with one of the mining tunnels below." Ventura paused for a moment. "Arc Angel, how's our reinforcements coming?"

"Reinforcement inbound; ETA five hours" the officer on the corvette replied.

"Shit" Ventura spat frustrated. In five hours it will all be over. Now it was a race against time – who would find Seven-One first. If the Demons found them, it will be game over...but even if Seven-Two found them, they would be facing some real trouble – unless they could somehow swing the situation to their advantage...

(Read, enjoy -or not- ... and REVIEW please)


	4. Chapter 4

[Sorry for the long wait everyone – hope you enjoy

Climbing up the ropes in near complete darkness was harder that Captain Mitchell had anticipated. As fatigue settled in, he realised why mountain climbers had light muscular frames. The worst was his hands. They were aching, and didn't respond as readily as they had when the climb started.

Seven-One had ascended two levels by now, and looking at his military issue watch, Mitchell realised that it had taken them over an hour. He could not help but be concerned with the rest of the men. Had the Demons blown themselves up in the lift shaft? He doubted it. Does that mean that Seven-Two was in contact? Hell, he hoped not. Judging by the way the Demons chewed through Seven-Three, a straight head on confrontation could go bad for the Diamonds.

Reaching up, he grabbed the floor of sub-level five. Pulling himself up, he peeked over the edge. There was no visible danger. The eight by four meter room was dimly lit and had a number of waist-high equipment containers randomly scattered around the floor. The far end the passage turned away in the darkness.

Rolling over the edge Mitchell wished he had a motion scanner with him. Without it he just had to wait for danger to present itself before calling his men up. Fortunately there seemed to be nothing.

Corporal Collins was behind him. It was the Firebat carrying Mitchell's light machine gun. The young soldier was fit, reliable and focused, and Mitchell was glad to have him on board. His blonde hair and green eyes also made him quite a hit with the ladies – or so the rumour was.

"Watch the approach corporal" Mitchell instructed the young soldier, while he leaned over the edge to signal the next man up.

Collins's machine gun popped three times making Mitchell swing around, his pistol ready. The three rounds had exploded the head of an Invested Terran.

"Shit" Mitchell swore. "These bastards are becoming a real pain in the ass." Another one appeared in the dark tunnel that stretched out in front of the two men.

Whum! Smoke drifted up from Mitchell's Gauss pistol and two corpses lay motionless. When you thought it couldn't get any worse, Mitchell thought to himself…

00000000

Lieutenant Spengler had his head lowered, and was heading into the howling wind. He was getting sandblasted by the high winds and had to keep checking his navigation computer to make sure he was not getting off course.

Suddenly he crouched down. He wasn't sure why, but something was bothering him.

Spengler had honed his psychic abilities in training. It took some getting used to, but remaining sensitive to it, enabled him to receive top honours in the Ghost-academy. Right now he was almost certain there was no immediate threat, yet he could not shake the feeling of looming danger.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Sir" the soldier yelled over the raging wind, "the Bio-Pulse indicates that we're being followed; target six o'clock – four hundred meters."

Commandant Vritra turned to look over his shoulder, knowing he would see nothing but waves of sand blowing in the wind.

"One man?" he asked.

"It looks like it sir" the soldier responded.

Vritra knew if it was one person, it was the Ghost operator of the Diamonds. He considered how wonderful it would be to eliminate their primary reconnaissance element. It would be like taking the queen of his opponent in this chess game.

Vritra also found a perverse pleasure in killing Ghost operators, and had seven confirmed kills chalked to his name. Knowing he was taking out the best that the Terran military had to offer, gave him a sense of exhilaration. He could still remember the reverence that filled the voices of his comrades when they spoke of the Ghosts operators, and how it pissed him off.

At the same time he did not want to loose sight of his main objective. Having reached the ventilation structure, which resembled a cube-shaped mushroom about two meters in height, he wanted to get down to the sphere as soon as possible.

"Take Sobriesky and Niurtu and circle around him. I want you to take the Bio-Pulse along and confirm his location every ten minutes – Ghosts can be real slick and if you're not careful you'll loose him", Vritra said. "We'll open up the vent and wait for you to get back", he concluded.

"And bring me his dog-tags" Vritra added as the soldier started to leave. "I collect them you see", he murmured - his glassy eyes sending a chill down his subordinate's back.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Commander Aeron was pissed off. He was eager to prove himself to Vritra. Having served under him for eight months, he had never had the opportunity to show him just how good he really was.

Sitting with his back against the wall, he was breathing heavily recovering from the onslaught that he had just survived. Droplets of sweat were pearling on his forehead. He cursed out load, spitting out the phlegm that had formed in his burning throat.

The Diamonds came out of nowhere and hit them hard. At the moment he only had two of his men with him, a third somewhere on sub-level six. The other two were presumably dead – consumed in the fireball that shot through the lift-shaft.

The sound of gunfire made him swing his head around. It was echoing though the corridor leading away from the lift shaft.

Who was firing and what were they firing at, he wondered. He knew it wasn't his commandant, so it had to be a detachment of the Diamonds. Was it the group carrying the sphere heading up the vent? Was fortune finally smiling on him? How great would it be if he could capture the sphere before commandant Vritra came down he vent.

"On me" he shouted to his men as he got up and started running down the hallway. The two soldiers complied at once, having seen the fire in Aeron's eyes.

0000000

Mitchell aimed and fired, aimed and fired. Between himself and corporal Collins, they had already dropped four IT's. The rest of the group were making their way up the vent behind them.

0000000

Spengler could not shake the uneasy feeling that had possessed him twenty minutes ago. Hopefully he would get 'eyes-on' in the next few second. He flicked the covers of his scope up, switched to infrared to pierce the thick sand clouds and scanned for the Demons.

At the bottom of the scope display a small index showed the colour spectrum that the instrument provided. Black meant the object you were looking at was below freezing point. The colours got brighter as the temperature of the object got higher, with everything hotter than an open flame displaying as white.

At 37,5 degrees Celsius, the human body would typically leave a green impression on the tiny electronic screen and that is exactly how the three bodies he saw on the scope appeared. The figures were scattered around a two meter high cubical structure, apparently working to open it. It must be the vent, Spengler thought to himself.

Like a brick hitting him between the eyes, he realised something was wrong. The fact that he was sensing danger, combined with three of the Demons being unaccounted for meant trouble. Closing his scope, the familiar feeling of impending doom screaming out in his mental chambers almost overwhelmed him.

A fraction of a second later the bullet ripping through his bicep-femoris, the muscle commonly referred to as the hamstring, confirmed his senses weren't playing tricks on him.

His reaction was instantaneous, as it had to be. He knew a second shot would follow, and the possibility of it hitting its target more accurately was very real. Rolling away, he hoped he would lose his attackers in the dust clouds and darkness and weren't even sure how they were able to detect him, except for the silhouette the dust formed when hitting his body.

Rolling over a fourth and fifth time, he was slightly relieved to hear or feel no second shot. By now he had determined what direction the fire had come from and knew he would have to rely on his most basic skills to circle around and surprise his attackers. Apparently his stealth abilities had been compromised.

OOOOOOOOO

Neither the marine nor the firebat armour was any good for climbing steep inclines, much less vertical concrete faces. In fact, the marines stuck on sub-level two under the command of sergeant Ventura, could not go anywhere if they did not use the lift or remove their armour and climbed down the ropes.

Removing their armour was not an option for Ventura. Firstly it would be very difficult using the heavy Impalers, and secondly it would make them a sure-as-shit soft target. That meant that they had to use the lift if they wanted to get anywhere.

Ventura however knew that using the lift would be very dangerous. If they did it quickly, chances that the Demons had already set explosives was remote, but the possibility of them firing an explosive device at the moving lift carriage remained very real.

Staying put and waiting for better days was however not an option. If using the lift meant facing danger, but getting the job done, then it definitely fell in their job description.

"Ok, here's what we do" Ventura said to his men. "We get the personnel lift moving up from sub-level eight. Hopefully it will attract any fire if the Demons think Saunders is in it. Meanwhile we go down in the personnel lift. We have to protect Seven-One and that means taking on the Demons. There is now only four of them, and apparently they've been split up." The men nodded their agreement. Everyone seemed eager to get down there and mix it up – the loss of Seven-Three demanded it.

"We'll start on sub-level six, clear it and move up to five. Saunders says he's sure they're not on seven. Any questions? Ventura asked."

"Let's move", he concluded.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

Four I.T. corpses lay on the floor. Another came into view before Mitchell cut it down with his pistol. The next was riddled with small machine gun rounds.

The only good thing about these zombies, he thought to himself, was they didn't shoot back.

From behind the bend at the other end of the room, a black object came flying, clattering to the floor. In a split second Mitchell recognised it as a stun grenade. Falling backward over the container behind him, he was just quick enough to avoid the concussing effect of the grenade as it shook the front of the crate in a blinding explosion.

Collins was not as lucky. The effect of the grenade, primarily not to kill or destroy, knocked him against the wall, temporarily blinding and deafening him.

His ears ringing, Mitchell forced himself up, knowing the enemy would press the attack immediately after the explosion. His pistol barked angrily at the first soldier, clad in black, that came around the corner. Blue flashes marked his faultless aim, a number of ineffective rounds scattering over the attackers head and chest.

"Shit" Mitchell swore to himself as he ducked down, releasing the empty clip from his pistol. Before he could rise over the edge of the crate again, he could hear the machine gun fire – knowing it was aimed at Collins – probably killing him.

With one hand firing blindly over the crate, he managed to drive the attacker back behind the corner – the latter avoiding the gunfire that was draining his shield batteries.

"I've had enough of these assholes", Mitchell whispered to himself, the familiar warm sensation of absolute rage flaring up along his ears and cheeks. For the first time in his life as a professional soldier, he could feel himself loosing all rationale and reason – blinded by the anger of another one of his soldiers killed by these seemingly indestructible 'Demons'.

Without thinking, Mitchell moved. To him it felt as if everything was happening in slow motion – and he was very aware that he was probably living the last seconds of his life. Reaching down the vent shaft, he grabbed the Osiris Sphere from the unsuspecting soldier's hands.

"If you want it so bad then take it", he screamed flinging the sphere to bounce off the far wall and disappear around the bend.

Commander Aeron saw the orange ball rolling towards him, instantaneously recognising it from the briefing. Hunkering down to pick it up he smiled, not believing his amazing luck.

Looking up, his surprise was complete, seeing the enraged Mitchell coming around the corner like a bat out of hell, his gun flashing rapidly, his eyes flaming with hate. To Aeron it felt like a number of sledgehammers were pounding his body as the Gauss rounds hit their target, flinging him backwards. The sphere had rendered his shields useless.

Aeron's soldiers, standing on either side of him, were momentarily stunned by the attack. Lifting their weapons in retaliation, they were also too late. The first one met the same fate as Aeron as Mitchell emptied his clip into his chest.

The second one's finger was curling around his trigger before both of Mitchell's boots slammed into his face, Mitchell's body momentarily suspended horizontally in the air.

The force of the blow broke the Demon's jaw and nose, sending him tumbling back with a thin trail of blood whipping through the air. His scull hit the wall, cracking with a dull thud.

Rolling over, Mitchell already had Aeron's machine gun, and was searching for the next target. His eyes still burning with rage, it took him some seconds to realize that his three attackers were the only ones that had come.

Dropping the gun, he returned to Collins to see if anything could be done for him…but it was too late.

……………………………………….

Sweat pearled on Ventura's forehead, as he slowly advanced away from the lift and down the dimly lit corridor on sublevel five. The only sound audible was the soft tapping of the motion scanners pulses.

Ventura could feel the suspense building, knowing that at least one Demon was somewhere ahead of them in the corridors. The question was whether this guy or group was anticipating an attack. If that was the case he or they could very possibly have set up an ambush for them or there might be booby traps.

If it was only one soldier, this was what was commonly referred to in military terms, a goose hunt. Seven-Two was the hunting party, and the Demon was the goose…only problem, Ventura thought to himself, was that some geese could be dangerous.

Heading down the narrow passage, Ventura noticed a room opening up in front of them. Closing in, he could see it was a large round, two-storey room with a large computer console in the middle. The upper level, same as the lower level, consisted of a walkway around the room perimeter with multiple exits in all directions. Ventura imagined it to be some sort of control room for the mining equipment. Sneaking inside, he scanned the room over the barrel of his Impaler.

"Stop" Ventura could hear Zander's voice in his ear. Everybody hunkered down.

"I've got movement; three o'clock" Zander said easily.

Looking toward the three o'clock position, Ventura could not notice anything. Then his gaze rose to the second storey. Almost completely hidden in the dark shadows he could see a lone black figure, working on something at one of the door openings.

In complete silence he signalled the rest of his men. Zander read the hand signs; "Single target, three o'clock, above…Controlled fire – on me."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement – their Impalers lifting and aiming at the single Demon.

Now we will see just how effective this shield is, Ventura thought to himself, convinced that full fire from the whole group would run the target's shield battery empty and kill him within seconds.

The marines started firing as one. The Impalers flared, and a hailstorm of fire rained down on the single target. Again Ventura could see the blue flashes as the Demon's shield deflected the fire.

The lone figure dove out of the doors. Before Ventura could redirect his men, all hell broke loose. A sequence of explosions erupted from the multiple doorways that lined both upper and lower level walls.

The explosion sent rocks and debris raining down on Seven-Two, followed by a cloud of smoke and dust. Ventura realised that the explosion was rigged to shut the room down, to trap anyone inside to stay inside. It dawned on Ventura that the single Demon was probably busy setting up his ambush when they opened fire. And if his goal was to trap Seven-Two, and keep them from assisting Seven-One, he had probably succeeded – all the doors were blocked by piles of rubble.

…………………………………………………

Spengler was crawling along the desert sand, leaving a crimson blood trail. He was ignoring the blinding pain that was shooting up from his leg – knowing he had a brief window of opportunity to eliminate the group hunting him down.

He was circling around them, but still his senses were screaming at him, knowing that the advantage of his stealth suit was probably completely nullified. Lifting his scope again the three men appeared in front of him – their bodies displaying green on his infrared display. For the first time since making contact with these assholes, a smile played across Spengler's lips.

Never before had he taken pleasure in killing. In fact, never before this evening on this planet had he thought of killing as anything but a job. Now he relished the thought of ripping these jerks a new one.

……………………………………………………….

The "Reaper" missile was a classified piece of armament never before recorded in combat by Terran forces. For the moment, this would not change.

The stealth enabled missile, streaked across the open space of the Osiris system. The occupants of the Corvette known as Arc Angel, was unaware of their impending doom until it was too late.

The nuclear tipped missile consumed the Terran craft completely. No counter measures were deployed. No escape pods were released.

……………………………………………………………

Commandant Vritra was aware of everything that had happened in the last half hour. He knew that Aeron's squad had been killed. He was aware that Seven-Two was trapped on sub-level six. And he was aware that the ghost was probably going to kill the rest of his team soon. The only thing that convinced him that he still had the upper hand, was the fact that his reinforcements had arrived before the Diamond's did.

In fact, Vritra was still completely convinced that he was leaving Persephony with the Sphere in his hands.

He also realised that if that was going to happen, he would have to descend down the vent shaft right away, and relieve the Diamonds of the Sphere.

With that, he commanded his squad to descend. Him and his men, whizzed down the ropes that were dangling down the vent shaft.

Vritra was focussed on getting the sphere, and killing that single individual that had it in his hand.

…………………………………………………………….

Saunders was getting bored. Nothing had happened in the last half hour, and he suspected nothing would. He knew that Captain Mitchell and his men were heading upwards. Furthermore, all the Demons were on the levels above and none of them had any reason to return to sublevel eight.

He lifted his visor, and flipped another cigar into his mouth. Lifting his flamethrower, he used the pilot flame to fire up the cigar.

"Aaah shit", he murmured, still frustrated with his boredom. Taking the first drag of his cigar, he ran his hands over the large fuel containers that were stockpiled for the titanic Juggernaught mining vehicles.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he unscrewed one of the lids, sniffing the fuel. It smelled a lot like the special cocktail of napalm he carried in his flamethrower.

Carelessly he chucked the lid aside. I'm probably not going to see any more action tonight, he thought to himself.

Little did he know that the Demon that had trapped Seven-One on sub-level six was making his way down – looking to find and kill the Firebat responsible for his friend's deaths.

…………………………………………………………………

"Sir, we've got movement from above" Merlin said hearing a whizzing sound of the ropes.

"It's them", Mitchell said looking up into the darkness. "Follow me."

Leading his men, Mitchell knew he had to prepare his group to make a final stand. The Demons obviously knew where they were, and that meant they were sending everything they had down to sub-level five. They had figured out that the Diamonds were using the vent shaft, and now they were coming down it…it was going to get nasty.

…………………………………………………………………..

He came out of nowhere; like a black cat in the middle of the night. The Demon dropped down the shaft, took aim and fired. The rounds cut through the air around Saunders.

"What the f..." he said grinding on his teeth as he took cover. The attack was sudden, ferocious and non-relenting. The rounds were chipping away at the concrete column that provided cover for Saunders.

The Demon was out of reach of his flamethrower – and his gunfire was relentless. Remaining under cover, Saunders realized he had to do something – his enemy was probably closing in while firing.

Moving fast, he pushed the Juggernaught fuel container over. The fuel started pulsing through the opening. Quickly he unscrewed the second container.

A streak of bullets made him duck for cover once again. The bullets punched dust clouds up around him. When it stopped he kicked the second drum over from behind the column. The pool of green fuel was circling wider around him. Fortunately the gunfire would not ignite the fuel if a bullet hit one of the barrels. Unlike in the movies, it didn't happen that easily especially if the gun was is not firing tracers, and this one wasn't.

Keeping an eye on the pool of highly explosive liquid, he waited for the right moment. Shells slammed into the concrete over his head with pebbles ricocheting off his armour. He knew it was only a matter of time before the bullets found their target.

Getting dead was a real possibility, Saunders thought to himself. Then he noticed what he had been waiting for. The green fuel was pooling around the Demon's boots.

"Bye-bye", Saunders said flicking his thick cigar to the floor while lowering his visor. The cigar butt bounced off the floor, and a split second later the wave of fire widened in a concentric circle from where it hit. A moment later the whole area was completely consumed in fire.

Getting up, Saunders walked away, not looking back. For the second time in less than an hour he was smiling.

"Saunders three, Demons zero" he said as he strolled off through the fire, completely protected by his fireproof armour.

…………………………………………………………

Spengler slammed the needle into his leg. He was injecting himself with a cocktail of painkillers and adrenaline. He knew he had to perform at his best if he wanted to take on the three Demons in close quarter combat and come out alive.

The problem was that their shields would block any rounds he fired at them. And even though his rifle fired a powerful punch, he suspected it would not penetrate. Having witnessed the Impalers rain down on the shields at relative close proximity and not making a dent had convinced him.

And so, to be sure, it would be him and his combat knife against three Demons. He didn't have much choice since they would soon start tracking him again and therefore time was of the essence.

Feeling his heart flutter and a surge of energy and power wash over him, his pain melted away and he knew he was ready.

Two of the three Demons were crouching on either side of the one operating the Bio-Pulse, their guns pointing outward. Niurtu was nervous. It had been many minutes since their attempted assassination of the Ghost, and since then they have not been able to pick him up again. For him it was starting to feel if he was actually the hunted and not the hunter. Sobreisky was feeling much the same.

"I've got something…wha…" their commander uttered before the silhouette etched out of blowing sand dropped in their midst.

The titanium blade sliced through the commander's throat, leaving a blood smear on the silver-grey metal. The Ghost moved like lightning. Sweeping low with his left leg, he whipped Sobriesky's legs out from underneath him. Niurtu turned and fired, his rounds missing anything solid as they sprayed into the hot night.

Spengler's long blade flew straight and true and found its target as it sank into the firing man's skull. The machine gun fire died down, but Sobriesky leapt.

Having lost his rifle, he was now wielding his own knife and jumped toward Spengler. Pulling up his leg, Spengler managed to wedge it between him and his attacker. With one hand around Sobriesky's wrist keeping the knife away, he used the other to grab a grenade from the Demons combat vest, pulled the pin with his teeth, and shoved it into the Demons mouth before launching him back with his leg.

With wide eyes and his mouth full, Sobriesky stumbled backwards before his head exploded. As quickly as it started it was over, and Spengler breathed out with relief.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The moment Arc Angler exploded, a red light blinked in the cockpit of Captain Jason Briggs. At first he thought it was a simple malfunction, but tapping and then doing a diagnostic check on his control panel revealed he was not as lucky.

"Arc Angel this is Stork One do you read me…"

"Arc Angel this is Stork One do you read me…"

A string of swearwords escaped Briggs's mouth. The time he had spent in the military had taught him that no operational complication was a small one – it was always worse than it seemed. And in nobody's book was loosing your lifeline – your only exit strategy, a small complication.

"All Storks listen up" Briggs commanded his drop-ship detail as he started flicking switched on his control panel.

"We've got bogeys inbound; number and approach vector unknown. Prepare for lift off, and keep the formation tight."

The three ships whined as they picked their own weights off the ground – the cross winds pulling at their bulky frames. Leaning over forwards, the drop-ships headed off.

The ship that had evaded detection by the Arc Angel would surely not be detected by the comparatively simple electronics of the drop-ships, Briggs thought to himself. And he certainly did not want to go the same way.

His plan was simple. They would enter a holding pattern in Thor's passage – below the surrounding ground level - ready to make a hasty escape if something approached. Meanwhile he would hope and pray to get a call from the men on the ground to come pick them up. What they would do after that, he had not figured out yet…

"Keep it steady boys", he eased his men as they dropped over the edge of the dark canyon.

[Please remember to review


	5. Chapter 5

"Shit…shit! Shit!" Sergeant Ventura swore. Locked up, and completely useless, he thought to himself. He was bitter that one Demon managed to outwit his small outfit and lock them up for the rest of the game.

"Don't worry boys" he heard Saunders over his earpiece.

"Old Saunders settled the score for you. Seems like I'm the only one that can shake-'n-bake in this chicken-shit outfit."

"Shit Saunders" Zander chipped in with a chuckle. "If you ask me, they should promote you to Colonel Saunders."

"Ha, ha real funny" Saunders retaliated. "You pansies better stay in my good books – at the moment I'm your only way out of that hole you're in."

"Hey Saunders", another said easily, "you know they'll probably give you medal for what you did tonight. I'd say you're up for the KFC medal of honour – that's the Killed Four Cadets medal...but then you only got three – so on second thought you won't get that one"

Laughter echoed over the radio waves.

"I'm of a good mind to leave you bitches right where you are" Saunders said dryly.

"Where are you now" Ventura asked.

"I'm making my way to the lift – I just had to wait for our last friend to reach the over-easy mark. I should be at you position soon" he replied signing off.

With time on his hands, Ventura considered what he could do to.

"Let's have a look see what's on this log", he said whipping out the memory chip containing the station's log.

Jamming the stick into a port in the console, Ventura flicked the "Auxiliary Power" switch and the screen came on.

"Unpacking data file" the electronic voice said as it automatically started reading the file on the chip.

"Proceed with file display?" the computer inquired.

"Yes" Ventura said, not really expecting anything exciting.

The display showed the commander of the facility, recognisable by his uniform and rank. His black hair was neatly combed and his uniform starched and pressed to exact military standards. He was delivering a measured run down of the week's events and happenings in the mine.

"Commander D'Archy; delivering weekly report. Four Juggernaught units are operational and drilling. Progress is better than expected due to numerous soft veins of schist and mica staring twenty meters below NGL (Natural Ground Level). Mineral yields have been lower than expected…"

Ventura scrolled the recording forward to the last recording.

Again the commander spoke, but this time his uniform was torn and splattered with blood. His hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead, and his eyes were filled with fear.

What the commander said next, left Sergeant Venture completely stunned.

Running down the dark corridors, Mitchell was getting impatient with himself. He knew doing things by the book when fighting the Demons would get him killed. He had realised that fighting the Demons, even using cutting edge strategies as taught in Special Forces school, was not sufficient. He would have to get creative – very creative.

Searching his mind, he tried to think how he could turn the situation to his advantage…using the environment to his advantage…using a weak point of the enemy against him…taking the enemy by surprise…

Mitchell realized he had nothing. He knew he could not use the sphere again. The Demon commander was too fast and clever to be caught by a cheap trick like that. Having sergeant Ventura and his men by his side right now would have been nice, but alas that was not a possibility…

Then turning a bend, Mitchell found his salvation. There in the open it stood, and even though it was far from a sure thing, it was the best, no the only option he had.

"They got out…somehow the ITs got out and they're running wild all over the facility…" Commander D'Archy said through heavy breaths.

"I don't know how they got through the security checks placed on sub-level nine and ten, but the next thing we knew they were in the mining area…Three men were killed by the time we ordered the military to the lower levels, but somehow they were overwhelmed…"

Ventura was shocked and confused at the same time. What was the commander talking about; sub-level nine and ten? What were ITs doing there?

"I am now locked in the command centre, and I hear them banging at the door… I fear that I will not make it through the night…"

Loud banging in the background confirmed what D'Archy had said.

"I am not familiar with detailed science reports, but believe that no solution had been found in reversing the effects, except that they don't explode anymore…" Guttural moans in the background made the commander turn in fear, interrupting his speech.

Turning back to the camera he continued. "I believe a science officer was able to secure the sphere in the rock face on sublevel eight after escaping them. Using a non-shrink grout compound and decking the surface to match the original appearance it should be completely concealed. It should be safe there, until uncovered by the Terran commanders viewing this clip."

With shock Ventura realised that the Zerg had never taken the facility. It was becoming clear that Persephone had been destroyed from within…seemingly by Infested Terrans that were kept on secret levels nine and ten for experimental purposes. Persephone was in fact a science facility posing as a mine.

Where the sphere came from, or what exactly it was, was still unclear, but it seemed that it was being used to see if it could reverse the effects on Terran soldiers that had been infected.

Ventura leaned back against the console behind him, taking off his helmet.

"Zander, gimme a smoke" he said staring at the open space in front of him.

"But sir" Zander responded stepping over with the cigarette box, "I thought you didn't smoke…?"

Ventura took the smoke, placed it on his lips and leaned over to light it on the open flame Zander offered.

His first priority was to figure out if this information could be used to the Diamond's advantage and how…

Commandant Vritra could feel his heart pounding wildly. In complete silence he proceeded forward flanked by his two soldiers. He did not know what to expect, but so far the Diamond commander had proven to be quite predictable. Expertly the three men moved through the darkness, their weapons held up with their eyes scanning for a target.

Vritra's mind was milling over the possible ambushes or attacks he could face, but nothing his opponent could throw at him made him worry. To him it was a simple hide and seek scenario, and if he found his opponents, it would all be over. One thing that was starting to grab his attention was the widening in the tunnel up ahead. It is a perfect place for an ambush, Vritra thought to himself. But would his opponent be that stupid? Did he not realise that the Demons would crush them? Vritra hoped not. He was thirsty for violence, and that thirst was escalated by the conviction that he could obliterate his opponent.

"Come on you pathetic weakling", Vritra whispered softly thinking about his opponent, the feeling of power surging though his body. As the Demons proceeded past a side tunnel to their right, shots popped and the light arms fire bounced off the deflectors.

"What are you doing you fool", Vritra whispered again as his excitement flared up. The three Demons responded instantaneously, their assault rifles banging away, drowning out the sound of the incoming fire.

"Forward", Vritra said to his men. "We take them hard and fast."

Vritra could see his attackers taking cover behind some crates. Moving fast, he was pleased with himself. It had happened exactly as he hoped it would. The sphere was his. Completely consumed by his looming victory, Vritra hardly noticed the perpendicular tunnel that appeared to their right, or that the extension to their left ended abruptly with a shear rock face.

Cutting across the perpendicular tunnel at an angle, Vritra did not realize he was walking deeper into a trap. Only once a door started closing between the Demons and the small contingent of Diamonds, did Vritra realize something was wrong.

A moment later the mighty lights of the Juggernaught flooded the three Demons as its massive engines roared to life. Swinging to his right, Vritra instantaneously realized that they had walked into a trap. His obsession with the sphere and the impending victory had clouded his judgement.

The Juggernaught urged forward and the large rotating discs that were studded with augmented alloy spikes spun into action. In a second the Juggernaught had closed the entrance tunnel, cutting the Demons off. It became clear that the plan was to drive the three men back to the rock face and grind them to a pulp; and since the giant drilling engine filled up the tunnel from side to side Vritra realized he was in serious trouble.

Turning to the approaching monster, the three men started firing, their action being a natural reaction rather than an effective attack. The rounds simply clanged off the hardened metal.

Behind the controls, Mitchell realized it was his opportunity to shut the Demons down. He could end it here and now and he jammed the controls forward. For a moment it reminded him of the instant he attacked the Ultralisk on Theran-Gamma. Again he was looking the beast in the eyes and going for the kill.

The mammoth mining vehicle roared forward, its drills now spinning at full speed and the gap between itself and the rock face closing fast. He could hear the bullets ricocheting off the drill discs, but knew it would not stop him. On either side of the drill discs, the machine started chewing into the rock. A tornado of rock and dust kicked up into the air and Mitchell knew the spikes would soon taste flesh.

One thing that Commandant Vritra had learned in his many years in combat was that the person with the coolest head was usually the one that won the day. The situation he currently found himself in was less than favourable and he knew the discs might kill him. He also knew giving in to a defeatist's attitude would definitely kill him.

His comrades, one on either side, were starting to panic. Space had run out, and the spikes on the discs were starting to lap at the fringes of their deflector shields. Blue sparks lined the tips of the rotating spikes and Vritra could see their battery meters starting to run down. He knew the two shields would only delay the giant monster for a few moments as it sucked their battery packs empty, and then it would be over. The concave shape of the tunnel end would give him a few seconds more.

Panic was starting to overtake his men. Looking down at their battery indicators and seeing no way of escape, was too much. With fear in their eyes they screamed and kept firing at the approaching discs.

He realized he had one chance. The only currency he possessed in this situation was the remaining battery life on his shield and he would have to use it wisely. Dropping his assault rifle, his hand reached down and grabbed for the only option he had left.

The men on either side of him could see their battery meters run down fast. 80...70...60...40... CAUTION ...30... CAUTION ...20... CAUTION ...10... CAUTION ... CAUTION ... CAUTION ...

The discs found flesh and Vritra knew he would be next. The world was moving in slow motion. Looking at his battery meter he read 75 on the dial. In his left hand he held the HE-grenade. With his right index finger he pulled the pin and dropped the grenade just outside the perimeter of his shield. Never before had he experimented with the boundaries of high explosives on his shield capacity and so he guessed there was less than a fifty-fifty chance of his stunt working. With 70 to 75 of his shield batteries intact, he was gambling that it would be enough to protect him from the blast of the grenade whilst strong enough to push the Juggernaught back – if only a few feet. If it worked and the machine was slightly pushed back, it might create an opening between the machine and the tunnel they had entered in through that would be wide enough to escape out of.

Mitchell kept the control stick of the mining engine pressed down in the forward position. He could feel the resistance as the machine came up against the shields. The sound of gunfire and metal grinding into the sides of the tunnel was deafening.

With sweat pearling on his face and grinding his teeth with determination he waited to break through. The splatter of blood that announced the first death did not give him any pleasure, but in this case it did speak of survival and that was something he was always grateful for.

He knew it was not over. He would not stop until all the rotating discs were eating rock.

The explosion that followed shattered the glass of the cockpit. Mitchell fell forward slamming his head against the control panel as the massive machine ground backwards.

Vritra lay on the ground bleeding. The shields managed to block most of the blast, but the little that was not deflected, left him in bad shape. His clothes were in tethers. Blood was seeping from his ears, nose and eyes and a large cut to his forehead left most of his face covered in blood.

Knowing he needed to get up or die, he forced himself up, spitting out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth. Still completely disorientated, he swung around. What he saw made all the pain he was in, worthwhile. A small gap, no more than ten inched wide, was open between one of the spinning discs and the tunnel opening. Stumbling forward, he managed to slip through.

Sitting up, Mitchell shook his head, his ears ringing. Trying to figure out what had happened, his first assumption was that one of the discs broke loose causing the explosion.

Nothing could have survived that, he thought to himself as he gathered his senses. From the corner of his eye, he saw a dark figure stumble past the side of the vehicle. It was the commandant called Vritra. Mitchell reacted instantaneously. Opening the door, he leapt from the height of the Juggernaught tackling his nemesis to the ground.

Rolling over, Mitchell got up to face Vritra.

"You don't look so good, Commandant", he said bitterly, disappointed at his failure.

"Speak for yourself Captain" Vritra replied as the two started circling each other. Mitchell could hear the metal door grind against its deformed gears, realizing his men could not come to his aid. The blast had damaged the side door sufficiently to trap the rest of his team inside. This was now between the two of them...

Spengler was limping back to the hangar. He knew every man had to make their presence count if the Diamonds were to survive the night. Over the wind he heard an approaching roar. Immediately he could tell that it was not a drop ship. Hunching down to take a moment and observe, Spengler looked up into the dark sky.

Two crafts passed overhead in close formation. They were heading for the vent shaft. Having intimate knowledge of all aircraft and weaponry in the field, he knew this was nothing ordinary. The two aircraft had a predatory quality to them, and if Spengler had to compare it to a ground vehicle, he would label it as a cross between a sports-car and a tank...with added stealth features.

Two large engines flanked the main body. Two cannon barrels protruded beneath the cockpit and between the engines, on the body, a variety of missiles were cluttered over its belly.

A crossbones insignia decorated the tail fin. It was not difficult to tell that these were not the good guys.

Mitchell lost his vision for a second as the blow from Vritra's fist stung deep into his consciousness. Falling down, his hand touched a metal object. Vritra was standing over him. Grabbing the object Mitchell swung. The medium sized wench connected the side of Vritra's scull. The blow wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but it disorientated him enough to give Mitchell a chance to get to his feet.

The fight was beyond a well coordinated sequence of punches and blocks. It was rather the desperate attempts of men hanging on the fringes of consciousness, fighting for their lives, fighting for ultimate survival.

Vritra looked up, only to focus on the fist slamming into his face. Staggering back, Mitchell followed it up with jab and a hook. The final blow, a perfectly executed uppercut, knocked Vritra over backwards.

On the verge of losing consciousness, Vritra dropped back like a felled tree. His body slammed to the floor with enough force to blow up a dust cloud.

Mitchell stood breathing hard. His ears were still ringing. His body felt like a bag of broken bones. He was drunk with fatigue. But finally, to him, it seemed as if the Diamonds could win the night. Stepping over Vritra, Mitchell positioned himself to knock his opponent out. He didn't need any more shit from this guy. Grabbing Vritra by his torn collar, Mitchell drew his fist back to strike...but the strange thing was the smile on Vritra's broken face.

Mitchell never felts the blow from the rifle butt connecting to the back of his head. He simply sank into darkness...exactly how he had pictured Vritra to go out...

"Stork, this is Spengler, do you copy..." the ghost specialist said over his mike.

"We copy Spengler", the reply came over his earpiece.

"Are you aware of the airborne threat" Spengler asked, relieved to hear that the cavalry was still in town.

"Yup, we've taken evasive action" Briggs replied with the characteristic matter-of-fact tone of a pilot.

"Pick me up in front of the hangar. We've got to assist the guys inside. I'll be coming from inside. I first need to pick something up..."

"Did you collect the sphere Commander" Vritra asked the commando leader that came to his rescue.

"Yes sir, we found it using the tracker and placed it in safe containment."

"Are the explosives rigged", Vritra asked again.

"Yes sir, ready to blow at your command."

With that Vritra indicated to his men to take the bound-up and still unconscious Mitchell and head back up the ventilation shaft.

Spengler saw the men pouring out of the vent shaft. There were so many of them. What had happened inside? He knew that Ventura and his men were still locked up and that Saunders was working to get them out. But nobody knew where the Captain was or if they were still in possession of the sphere.

However, seeing the twelve men with the beaten up Commandant coming out of the shaft, Spengler feared for the worst. When he saw them raising a tied up body from the shaft, he knew his fears were realised.

A small container was handed from the shaft. Putting two and two together, Spengler realised that things were looking bleak. The guys downstairs were probably in shreds, the bad guys had Mitchell and it would seem they also had the sphere.

He knew what would happen next. The Demons would escape with the sphere and torture and kill Mitchell. Or they would use him as a bargaining chip and then kill him. They were ruthless and if one thing was certain, it was that Mitchell would never see the light of day again if left in their hands.

Spinning his index finger in a vertical position next to his head, Spengler signalled the drop-ship behind him, to lift off. It was time for an airborne strike and he would be the gunner on this mission.

Vritra felt good. The pain in his body was severe, but the thought of victory drugged him into a blissful euphoria. Returning the pain the Diamond Captain had inflicted on him, was also something he was looking forward to – like the cherry on the cake.

Overseeing his men packing the two prized possessions, Vritra was shocked back to reality. A Terran drop ship came skimming over a ridge heading straight for them. A single drop-ship was no threat to the two CAC-779's or "Dream Weavers" as they were commonly called – the name due to their proven ability to "weave a nightmare" around their opponents. However, being caught on the ground was never a good thing.

"Let's go", Vritra screamed over the noise, pointing out the approaching craft to the "Weaver" pilots.

Briggs knew he would have to draw on all of his flight skill to pull of what they would attempt next. While flying straight at the two earth-bound ships, Cool Hand swung the drop-ship around much like one would execute a handbrake turn. The ship swung around backwards and continued on its path now flying backwards with the cockpit tilting up.

Inside the open cargo hold, Spengler was standing behind the "Dragon's Breath" that he had hooked up to two suspension cables from both sides.

"This is for Seven-Three" he whispered to himself before squeezing the trigger. Again the deadly weapon buzzed, this time unleashing devastation on its previous owners. The red hail poured from the gun and ran along the desert sand approaching the two ships. The dust trail cut across a line of men disappearing into the back of one of the ships. Instantaneously three men were decapitated.

Passing over, Briggs started swinging the ship around to make another pass. Flying in reverse while trying to keep in a straight line over a target on the ground with the cross winds pulling at his ship, was one of the most difficult manoeuvres he had ever attempted. Seeing the sand blow up beneath the two enemy ships, Cool Hand realized they were about to take off – and it was obvious that they would put the Diamonds in a world of hurt. If that happened, the Diamonds would lose the only advantage they had – catching them on the ground.

Having swung around again, the drop-ship 'reversed' over its target again, and again the red tracers slid from the open cargo hold. Having mastered the weapon – to some extent – Spengler walked the dust cloud over the centre of one of the ships. In some areas the bullets tore into the ship. In other areas where the armour was thicker, it was deflected off. One of the engines started smoking. Damage had been done, but the ship was far from destroyed.

The 'healthy' ship started lifting from the ground. Bad news, Spengler thought to himself.

"Let's focus on that one" Spengler screamed over his mike. Cool Hand shook his head in agreement.

Backing up towards the approaching threat, Spengler ground his teeth – both eyes focusing over the gun.

The approaching pilot saw the drop-ship coming. Bullets were zipping past the "Weaver" cockpit. He was impressed at the skill the drop-ship pilot had shown. In all his years he had never been attacked by a drop-ship before and if one thing was for damn-certain: he would not be shot down by one.

Flicking the switch to arm his cannons, red-crosshairs appeared on his heads-up display.

Spengler was starting to zero in on his target. The tracers that had flown wide were narrowing in on the approaching bird. The cannons on the bogey also started flashing in rapid succession.

Spengler realized he was going head to head. Both ships had their guns blazing. Both men could feel Death peeking over their shoulders – their lives in the balance. The few seconds head start that he had on the bogey were starting to pay off however.

The Dragon's rounds were hitting home. In a few brief moments the rounds started to take the enemy ship apart, until one round slammed into the cockpit, snapping through the control stick.

The Weaver spun over on its longitudinal axis and dropped. Slamming into the ground it exploded in a spectacular ball of flame. Spengler bit his lower lip, hoping and praying that Mitchell was not in it.

Again tracers zipped past. Looking around, he could see the second ship approaching from the front.

"Hang on everyone", Cool Hand said over the mike. "It's time to run and hide." Spengler had to agree.

Working the controls, Cool Hand made the drop-ship fall like a brick from the sky. The ship was not designed for speed, but dropping fast and having spare power due to the empty cargo hold, it slipped down one of the canyons like soap on ice.

From the rear Spengler kept firing, but with Cool Hand swerving wildly, his rounds were criss-crossing in all directions. Spengler was finding it hard not to hit his own cargo door, much less zero in on the Weaver.

Cool Hand realized it would only be a second before their pursuers would fire a missile. If Spengler did not hit home soon, they would probably be toast. Before finishing the thought, an alarm sounded. MISSILE LOCK 

"Shit" he whispered. Firing counter measures while banking hard – it was his best option.

Spengler saw the missile streak across the sky towards them right before the harness fixing him to the ship tugged the wind from his lungs. The missile curled in towards the ship.

The counter measures had not worked. Checking his rear view camera, Cool Hand saw the missile close in. Its arc seemed wide, but would it be wide enough to pass by? Shit...no...

From his side window he could see it happen. On the verge of passing by, the proximity detonator of the missile was triggered. The explosion tore into the night. The shockwave instantaneously deformed the drop-ship's chassis and shrapnel ripped into the engines and hull.

Spinning out of control, Briggs could do nothing. The ship was plummeting to earth and he knew it would be mere moments before it slammed into the desert floor. Seconds later his fear was confirmed by a concussing blow. The forward momentum made the ship grind over rock and sand, before rolling over twice. Then it was silent.

Being the only conscious person on board, Briggs's shaky hands tugged at his seat belt. Someone had to arm the cannon in the back. The Demons would swoop over soon and finish the job. Hitting the release, he fell from his seat not having realized the ship was upside down.

Propping the gun against the frame of the cargo door that was now pointing skywards, he waited for the Demons to pass over. They did not.

"Leave them" Vritra said staring down at the smoking ship.

"They can tell the rest what they had seen here today...how their best was humiliated... and that we have their Captain..."

Vritra watched with hate in his eyes..."and Commander", he continued still staring.

"...blow the mine..."

Briggs watched as the ship flew away. His relief was mixed with confusion. Then a mighty blow had him duck back in the ship. Realising that it was the mine exploding, he raised back up to see the ball of fire rise into the sky.

From a window of the departing Weaver, the now conscious Mitchell saw the same sight and his eyes filled with horror.

"Don't worry Captain", Vritra said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You have a warm reception waiting for you at the 'The Incubus'...that's what we call our humble home... you might prefer to call it Hell."

As the Weaver pulled up into the sky, preparing to break from Vesta-Prime's gravitational pull, Vritra's laughter echoed in Mitchell's ears...

Next: The Labyrinth – Please review 


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